Nine Months of Delectable Hell
by pumpkindarling
Summary: Response to the old WIKTT Surrogacy Mother Challenge. HG/SS.
1. Month Zero

**NINE MONTHS OF DELECTABLE HELL**

My response to WIKTT's Surrogacy Mother Challenge. I know it was released years ago, but somehow, I didn't see it until now and just had to give it a go.

Major thanks go to my beta, **Southern_Witch_69**, who totally rocks.

* * *

**MONTH ZERO**

She was watching his face closely as she sat at the crowded table at Grimmauld Place. She'd been watching him all week and thought she could see beyond the gentle sneer to the well-hidden dejection.

She was the only one who knew; of _that_ she could be certain. His anguished admission was one she knew he regretted. He'd probably even entertained the thought of Obliviating her memory.

His confession had come late at night as she had found him scouring the Black Family library, muttering bitterly to himself. He had snapped at her meek enquiry into what he was looking for.

Here she had bristled. In her increased lack of social activity, following the end of the war, Hermione had found herself spending longer and longer hours sequestered away in this dark library. She knew the resting place of every book on the shelves. Drawing her shoulders back, she had told him as much.

His response hadn't been entirely what she had expected. Oh, the dry cynical delivery had been the same, but the words had not.

"I'm looking for a mother for my child, Miss Granger, but I doubt I'm going to find her in here."

Before she could stop herself, her infamous curiosity had prompted her to ask, "Why do you want a child?"

She had seen it in his eyes, the habits of a brutal lifetime of secrecy battling with the simple human desire to share.

"Simply to have an heir, you interfering woman." His glare had bore down on her.

She admired his ability to still make her feel as though she was standing over a cauldron in a dank dungeon, awaiting his approval. But those years were long past. She'd seen too much to be fazed for too long.

"Well, how do you manage to accomplish that with no mother? I wouldn't have thought you were getting married anytime soon."

"I hire a mother, Miss Granger. And do I need to remind you that I don't need to be married to the woman to produce a baby?" A smirk had spread across his face as a blush had spread across hers.

"But… where…?" She had floundered. It had been beyond anything she had ever expected to have a conversation with him about.

He had seemed to almost pity her ignorance. "They are about. I've been looking for over three years, and I have yet to find someone satisfactory. I won't have just _any_ witch."

With those final words, he had stormed from the room.

Throughout the following week, she had found herself hyperaware of his presence. If he arrived at the house, handing on reports to Harry or attending the Order's 'Search and Capture' meetings, she had found a reason to be present. She'd observed his every word, facial expression and body movement.

So this was how she found herself staring across the kitchen of Grimmauld Place to the man standing as far in the shadows as possible. He was currently focusing intently on the section of wall he stood against. She had noticed, over the week, that he rarely looked at people in the eye, but when he did, he fixed his full attention on them. That may be why most people found reason to swiftly end their conversations with him. Tonight he seemed preoccupied, as if he wasn't purposely distancing himself, rather that he had much on his mind.

The meeting concluded, and she watched him skulk out, no one else even noticing his exit. She followed. She didn't know why; she had no plan, just her usual desire to know everything.

As she passed the library, a low voice issued from the threshold.

"It's a good thing you were never a spy. You are about as inconspicuous as an Erumpent in mating season."

She whipped around on her heel and came to face the man in the doorway.

He continued to speak. "You've been watching me all week, Miss Granger, and I do _not_ appreciate the scrutiny."

Her jaw dropped open ever so slightly. She knew she had been more subtle than, say for example, Ron, but she should have known she hadn't been subtle enough for the Potions master. She cursed her own self-confidence. In true Gryffindor fashion, she plowed forwards regardless.

"I was concerned, Professor, after what you told me last week."

A barely discernable twitch of his forehead was the only indication she had that he had been caught off guard by her comment. He stared at her for a full minute before moving past her and heading for the front door.

He looked back to where she stood, the familiar sneer across his face. "No need to concern yourself. There will be _someone_. And don't call me 'Professor.' I'm no longer _anyone's_ professor."

* * *

Hermione managed to keep herself occupied the following week. She had her work, and at nights she returned home to Grimmauld Place. On Saturday she had gone to visit her parents. It had been a normal week.

Except her mind had been racing, her focus in tatters and her drive… wavering. The professor's predicament had started a chain reaction of thought, and now it wouldn't stop.

She found herself wondering about his life. Was he happy? Did he even seek happiness? She had a feeling neither were true and felt true sadness for the man, who didn't seem to live but merely exist. She wondered whether he had ever hoped for a family, and given up, or whether he hadn't even hoped to begin with. Would having an heir make him happy? Would it soften him? Would it give him a reason to smile or trust?

She wanted these things for the man, difficult and cold as he could be. She could feel the debt she owed him thrumming in her veins. She knew everyone in the Order felt the same, the reason Severus Snape was welcomed and respected, whenever he appeared, regardless of his lack of manners.

He deserved these things, and she arrived at a resolution: she was going to make it happen.

The moment she thought this, she recoiled. She couldn't. Where could that thought have even come from? From the dormant magic of her life debt? From her desire to see the dark warrior have something in his life to love? From her own loneliness?

Two days later, Hermione was still waging a war with her errant thoughts. She had been back and forth on the idea in her mind, but once an idea had taken seed in Hermione Granger's mind, she found it very hard to let go.

It was at that fateful moment that Severus Snape, once again, entered the library. He moved instantly to the bookcase, entirely ignoring her presence. She watched him scour the bookcases, pulling the leather-covered volumes out before stuffing them back. She flinched every time she heard a page crumple or a cover scrape.

"_Engarts Book of Magical Law_, Miss Granger."

She was jolted by the sound of his voice, but answered swiftly. "Third shelf, tenth book from the left."

He recovered the book swiftly and turned to once again storm out of the room when she spoke softly, saying, "I'll do it."

He impatiently turned to glance at her, but she wasn't paying too much attention. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, and her brain had frozen. It seemed she, once again, had no plan; hell, she couldn't even remember making the definite decision!

His voice cut through her shock. "You'll do what, exactly?"

She held her breath. For as yet unclear reasons, a sneaky part of her mind must have come to this decision a week ago and was now screaming for her to ask him. The rational side of her mind knew that several things could happen, should she continue. The most likely was that he would refuse her and probably sneer down his nose at her. The least likely was that he would accept, and she didn't even know what _that_ entailed.

At that moment she saw the twitch on his forehead again. In the time she had spent watching him, she had seen this small indicator again and again, whenever he was confused, shocked or surprised. It made him look, ever so slightly, more vulnerable. She had dubbed it his 'human expression', and it was this that swayed her judgment now.

"I'll be the mother of your child, if you'll accept."

The twitch became more pronounced. She must have shocked him immensely. He was frozen at his post by the door, staring intently into her eyes with as dazed an expression as he would ever show across his face. He stayed like that for a long time, breathing lightly, though slightly unevenly.

But soon his eyes began to narrow, and the look became calculating. He began to stalk slowly towards her, his eyes still focused on her face until he commanded, "Stand."

She stood. She was too stunned with the play of events not to.

He began to circle her. Looking her up and down. His eyes raked every inch of her body, and she barely repressed a shudder. She felt self-conscious, her heart thudding at the methodical assessment of her person. She didn't dare watch him, cursing herself for listening to what she had now decided was the delusional part of her mind.

He stood behind her now. The back of her neck prickled, and she could just make out his slow purposeful breaths.

"Why?"

It wasn't the question that made the breath catch in the back of her throat, but the rasping, desperate voice of the man. She didn't dare turn around to look at him to witness him in a heightened emotional state she didn't think she was yet prepared to see.

Why?! How could she articulate the barrage of questions and sympathy, which had swirled around her head all week? How could she make him believe in her sincere belief that he deserved it? She had a feeling that whatever she said would be rejected, just as she had predicted. As long as she could let him know that this wasn't a joke, meant to wound, then she would be able to leave the library with her dignity intact.

"Because, I want you to have it. You deserve your heir. I have the ability to give that to you." She felt self-righteous. She felt proud. She felt a sudden conviction for what she was doing.

"Have you even thought this through? Have you truly considered what you are offering to give? You may no longer be a girl, but you are treating this in the same gung-ho manner with which you gallivanted through your years at Hogwarts." He was still standing behind her, breathing more heavily now.

She could feel his breath tickle the hairs on her neck. Her affirming feelings dived. Feeling mounting humiliation, followed by a bubble of anger, she whipped around to face him. The colour in her cheeks was high, and there was a sheen to her burning eyes. He was closer than she had thought he was, and she faced a black wall of his chest before she raised her gaze to meet his.

"I am offering to carry your child. It is not an offer I make lightly. Take it, or leave it."

They stared at each other, each weighing up the other, evaluating motives and the benefits of such an endeavor. Could they do this? Could they create this together?

"I'll draw up a contract. I'll have it for you to sign in a couple of days." She nodded at his words, devoid of the strength to do more. He opened his mouth, as if to say more, but thought better of it and strode to the door without looking back.

Hermione sat down abruptly on the nearest chair. Her vision blurred, and her jaw sagged down at the magnitude of what she had agreed to. She took a deep, steadying breath and took stock of her situation. Even though she was shaken by the man, she discovered she felt all the more convinced she had made the right decision. She had never seen him so emotionally raw. He was more desperate for this than she had realized. The pride she had felt earlier returned, and she felt a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth. Life was about to get much shaken up, and she was looking forward to the upheaval.

Ever the practical bookworm, she walked to the end of the fifth shelf and picked up the book on pregnancy she knew was there.

* * *

Severus returned, as he had said he would, after two seemingly never-ending days. Hermione had read every relevant book in the library and felt somewhat more prepared to meet him.

She couldn't deny the butterflies that fluttered around her stomach as she welcomed him into the library or, as she had thought of it over the intervening days, the negotiation room.

He was very business-like, handing her a copy of his contract. As she began to read it, she became highly unsettled. There were some clauses that made sense, some that seemed unreasonable, and some that were just plain disturbing.

"Why do I need to live with you? I have a home here where you're quite able to visit. Surely that's enough access."

"This is my heir we are talking about. I want to be there to aid you should you need help. I wish to watch the process day-to-day. I merely wish to provide you with the best care, so you need not worry."

It sounded to her ears as if he had memorized these answers in preparation of the meeting. It made her pause on her defense and actually think about what he was saying. She liked the idea of being cared for on this journey. The only thing she didn't want was to lose her freedom.

"Am I still allowed to go to work?" She leaned forwards with her fingers crossed behind her back. This was a very important question for her. Whilst, in time, her work had become less all-consuming, she still couldn't be without it.

"Of course. The work you do is important. I wouldn't stop you from doing it, but I would ask you to limit yourself from any strenuous activity that you may be asked to do." He searched her face, seeming willing to appease her.

A hint of a smirk graced her lips as she pictured the most strenuous tasks involved in her work: lifting a large book, maybe.

"I don't think that'll be a problem." She continued to read down the contract, her lips pursing every minute or so as she read clause after clause. Snape was really overprotective of this child, and the small stipulations, such as promising to let him know if she felt any discomfort, or to abide no caffeine throughout the pregnancy, whilst logical, felt stifling when written on paper. But all of them made sense, so she let them go. No need to shake the hornet's nest.

It wasn't until she reached the last clause that she felt her heart still and her hands go damp. She sensed him tense opposite her in anticipation of this fight. How dare he?! Of all the ungrateful…!

She slowly drew her eyes up to his, waiting for him to say something, to tell her why he had included such a heartless vow.

When he simply looked back at her, she snapped at him, "Do you want to explain this?"

He drew a deep breath, spreading his pale hands on the table between them. He took a moment to think before speaking in a low voice.

"I don't want you to grow so attached to the baby that you are unable to let him or her go. I don't want to reach the end of nine months to find that you have changed your mind, and I won't have an heir after all." His voice started to grow in volume, his fingers gripping the desk. "I have waited too long to have a child that I only see at holidays. I want a child that knows my influence, who has memories of me when they are grown. A child I can teach to know respect for wizarding ways and will make me proud." He spat the last word at her shell-shocked face. His nostrils flared as his black eyes bore through her soul and chipped away at her conscience.

She couldn't deny him. A man this desperate was willing to do anything, and the only thing he wanted was to raise his child. The clause stated that no-one, not even the child, would have knowledge that she was its mother. She would have no rights to see him or influence his childhood and the person he was to be. The idea was barbaric, but as she looked into the eyes of the undone man before her, the man to whom she owed a life debt, she couldn't say no.

She reached for the quill, his gaze immediately tracking its progress towards the document. A glimmer of hope lit within the black as the quill hovered above the parchment. She silently signed her name, blew the ink dry and sanded it before painstakingly folding it and sliding it across the table to him.

Hermione watched as he reached for the contract, then held it reverently as he rose from the table. His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Will you be ready to travel to my home in three days' time?"

She bowed her head faintly in assent, adding only, "I think you can call me Hermione now."


	2. Month One

I **disclaim** all that you recognize. Applies to all chapters.

Thanks again to** Southern-Witch-69.**

* * *

**MONTH ONE**

She was packed and ready, her cases waiting at the door. Thinking of nothing else to do, she decided to visit 'her' library one last time. She was thankful it was the weekend and she didn't have to explain any absence from work. She hoped that during the later stages of her pregnancy she'd still be able to continue her work from home.

She was trying to wrap her head around the idea of calling Severus' house 'home'. She'd never seen his house, nor, to her knowledge, had anyone else. Despite her growing nerves about her upcoming pregnancy, she was curious to see where he lived. She couldn't see it being a lavish, overdone affair. She didn't think white peacocks, or such, were his style.

She absentmindedly cast her eyes around the small Black Family library and just hoped that there would be another such personal haven for her there.

A shadow loomed in the doorway, and she turned to see him studying her once more. As she stood and approached him, she could see him tensing. Did he except her to back out? She attempted to ease his apprehension with a semblance of a smile. He, unsurprisingly, did not return it.

With no greeting, he spoke quickly, "I have sent your bags to my home already. We have no reason to delay."

She felt a moment of irritation. Surely he would recognize what a life-changing day this would be for both of them? Would it be too much to ask that he would take that into consideration? She felt like an inconvenience to his day, rather than the woman who would today become pregnant with his child. She resisted the overwhelming urge to snap at him and replied with a curt, "I'm ready."

She wondered how true those words really were. She was given no chance to consider them as she was whisked to the threshold of Grimmauld Place. Once through the door, she barely felt his hand grip her arm before the world disappeared in a blur of images, leaving her no chance to take a final look at the place she wouldn't call 'home' for another nine months.

* * *

She landed with a thud on a cobbled stone pathway. The hand wrapped around her upper arm steadied her swaying form before releasing its grip and moving away with its owner's body. She began to follow, rubbing the muscles sore from his tight grasp.

When she looked up, she rapidly took in her surroundings. She was standing in, from what she could guess, a country lane. Severus Snape was currently walking through a gate, charmingly placedwithin the center of a tall hedge. She continued to follow hesitantly, pushing the wooden gate to one side and glancing up at the house she was to live in.

It was the last place she expected Severus to live. So stunned, she ground to a halt just inside the small garden. His house was in the middle of a row of what looked like pre-industrial cottages. She would go so far as to term it 'cute'. The white-washed walls were set off by the neatly thatched roof, a replica of the other roofs she could see peeking up over the hedges that surrounded the property.

By this time Severus had made it to the back door and turned round to cast an impatient look at her lingering inspection.

"No dallying, Hermione. There will be time to poke your nose around later."

She gave in to the compulsion to roll her eyes. He had already turned his back and so didn't catch her exasperated glare, aimed at his retreating back. She ambled towards the back door, taking the time to appreciate the rare herb patch, located in the shade of the hedge. She was itching to see what was growing there, but knew that she would have plenty time ahead to do so.

Stepping inside the cool cottage, Hermione enjoyed the simplicity of the cosy kitchen. It was bright and airy, such a welcome change to the underground kitchen of Grimmauld Place. She could see herself happily spending time in here, enough to maybe _finally_ learn how to cook. There was not much Hermione could not do, but cooking something (other than toast) was a talent she lacked. Between the house-elves of Hogwarts and Kreacher, she had been well catered for in her time as a witch. The only time she had had to cook for herself in the last fifteen years were the months spent searching for the Horcruxes, and those soggy mushrooms hardly counted towards culinary expertise.

Severus was still waiting for her to fully step inside the door. She felt the breeze whip her hair as a wordless flick of his wand caused the door to slamshut behind her, barely missing the back of her head. Today, she thought, was likely to be a very trying day.

Severus was already talking as he led the way into the hallway and motioned to the stairs.

"The Healer arrives in ten minutes. That should give you plenty of enough time to freshen up or whatever it is you need to do. You're in the room to the right."

With that he disappeared in a room off the hallway and left her to find her own way to her room.

Like the rest of the cottage she had seen, her room was cosy and simply furnished. Her luggage laid waiting by the door. She found her hairbrush and began absentmindedly fighting the frizz. Catching her reflection in the small vanity mirror, she paused. She doubted the Healer would care about the state of her hair. With a short snort of derision, she placed the hairbrush on the chest of drawers that held the mirror and stepped closer.

She'd heard the expression 'take a long, hard look in the mirror', but neither a vain nor whimsical girl, she never really had. She studied her face, now devoid of the plumpness of youth, and thought about the changes she might see in this mirror over the next nine months.

Would she become the type of expectant mother who exuded an inner glow, or would she become tired and haggard? She snorted again. That was hardly her first concern, but she guessed it was just a natural feminine thought.

Her head shot to the bedroom door as she heard a knock from downstairs. A light murmur of voices greeted her ears, and she realized now was the time. She should really head downstairs to meet them, but she couldn't make herself go. She just needed a minute longer; she didn't know if she _was_ ready.

She turned back to look in the mirror, seeing the scared face of a young woman about to drastically change three people's lives.

The door burst open, and she met the black eyes of Snape in the mirror. He looked as if he was about to say something, comfort her maybe. Surely he could see the signs of distress in her eyes? He settled for nodding once. She took that as all the acknowledgement she was to receive of her agonizing emotions.

He spoke softly, but commandingly, "Come. She is here."

* * *

The process was quick and simple. The Healer had obviously been dealing with Snape for some time and knew how to handle his brusque behaviour. The Healer reminded Hermione slightly of Professor McGonagall, and she instantly felt more comfortable. Hermione guessed Snape must have made his 'contribution' earlier in the week, as he exited the room shortly after the Healer arrived, returning only when the Healer called for him.

He arranged a follow-up appointment for the following week and showed the woman to the door. Hermione waited on the worn settee in the front room, shocked that something so momentous could be over so swiftly. That was it. No going back.

His voice rolled through her ears as he entered the room. "I can show you the rest of the house now, if you wish."

She nodded slowly, still in slight amazement over how quickly her life had changed. She mutely followed him around the small cottage. He didn't speak much either, merely stating the use of each room. It wasn't big, but allowed enough space that they would be able to live comfortably around one another. Off of the sitting room was a potions laboratory. She was requested to use it only if necessary and to write down any ingredients she used in a large leather-bound ledger so that he may keep his stock well managed.

He showed her whereabouts in the kitchens all the utensils lay and then motioned for her to join him in the corner of the kitchen. There, tucked away in the nook, she found a previously unseen door. Severus turned the handle, then stepped back and waited for her to enter.

"I've never used this room. I thought it would do for you, if you needed somewhere to work."

Her lips parted in delight as she looked around the little room. It was tucked between the kitchen and the outer wall, possibly for use as a large pantry or storage room. There were piles and piles of books and odds and ends lying along the walls, but with a bit of work, she could see the possibilities. She turned to thank him for the thoughtful gesture, but he was nowhere to be seen.

With a frown she set off through the kitchen to find him. He was in the front room, fastening a cloak around his neck, a fire crackling within the hearth.

"Are you going already?" she asked sharply. She felt decidedly rejected.

"I need to replenish my ingredients stock. I shall be back before nightfall. I thought the reorganization of your study would occupy you sufficiently." His passed a cursory gaze over her cross face, travelling downwards, coming to rest on her flat stomach where magic would be working on the embryo that would become his child.

She quivered at the intensity with which he was staring at her abdomen. She crossed her arms across her chest, suddenly relieved that he was leaving for a while. Maybe it would give her time to organize her thoughts. The day had gone by in a blur, and she was ready to be alone for a while.

She withdrew from the room as he stepped into the green flames. Standing uncertainly in the hallway, she decided that to unpack would probably be the most constructive thing she could do at that moment in time. The methodical action of unpacking would allow her time to let her thoughts roam.

She decided that the situation didn't feel real. She felt as though it was all an elaborate hoax and she was waiting for the punch-line. She half expected a leprechaun to jump out of the cupboard and tell her that she was in a dream.

As she set to the task of folding and putting away, she wondered whether she still had the same conviction she'd had three days ago, sitting in the library. She realised she still believed in producing an heir for Severus Snape, but found it was _him_ she was finding difficult. It was as though now that he had gotten what he wanted, the passionate, desperate man she had been so compelled to help had left, leaving in place the familiar, but distant, Potions master of old.

If today was to be any inclination of how life over the next nine months was to be, then she could see it being a very lonely existence. All the hopes she had of companionable evenings and intellectual discussions were gradually slipping away, leaving only an empty house and pantry full of boxes. It really wasn't any different to Grimmauld Place.

She sat down abruptly on her bed, a knitted sweater still clutched in her hands. The unidentifiable niggle that had been a part of her decision became clear. She was lonely. She, Hermione Granger, integral part of the Order, Liaison to the International Confederation of Wizards, was lonely. In the hustle and bustle of her life, she had managed to miss that last crucial step to _really_ connect her to someone, _anyone_.

She was panicking now. She mentally scanned her friends, searching for the last time one of them had 'got' her, understood what made her tick, and related with how she saw the world. They cared, of _that_ she had no doubt. They loved her; _that_ she was sure of too. But she couldn't positively say they understood her.

So what was it she was searching for? A connection? Did she truly expect that to come from Severus Snape? She seemed to have come up with as many questions as she'd had answers. Now was not the time. She wanted to be unpacked before Severus arrived home, and that wasn't going to get done whilst she was seated on the bed.

* * *

When Snape arrived home, he found Hermione secreted in the pantry-study, knee deep in books. He guessed that she was organising, but it didn't really look like much had been achieved. He left the doorway unnoticed and retired to his lab to catalogue and properly store his precious ingredients.

Opening the first bag, he was disrupted by the sound of a loud oath, coming from the opposite side of the house. He momentarily thought of ignoring it and continuing with his work, but after another moment's hesitation, he strode out across the hallway towards the corner of the kitchen. Another cursed sentence reached his ears before he got there, and he quickened his paced. The last thing he needed was for her to get hurt on the very first day she had moved in. He could do without her getting hurt, period.

"Oh, you _are_ here!" the impatient cry came as soon as he rounded the doorway.

He blinked in surprise. She was angry, that much was certain, but as to why, he wasn't sure. He had been a gracious host this morning, giving her privacy throughout her appointment and showing her around his home afterwards. He even thought he had gone beyond what was expected of him by supplying this convenient, although cluttered, room for her own personal use. He was at a loss as he surveyed the red-faced young woman in front of him. He didn't bother replying to her exclamation, as he thought it was rather obvious that he was indeed 'here'.

She began climbing over the boxes and piles of books towards him. It wasn't a very dignified advance, and he waited, unmoving in the doorway for her to reach him. Maybe she would explain what had angered her.

She finally reached him, puffing slightly, hastily brushing her errant curls of hair from her face. She fixed him with a beady glare, which narrowed further as he raised one eyebrow in silent question.

"Why, it's good to see you, Severus. Did you get all the ingredients you needed?"

She had crossed her arms across her chest tightly, and her face was still flushed. Although her question seemed harmless enough, the tone in which she had said it put him on alert. He had been right in his assessment that she was angry. However, in all his worldly experience he had never had to deal with a woman using this tactic of insincere friendliness. Was it a trick? Was he supposed to answer the question or deal with her obvious anger first?

Since he didn't fancy dealing with her emotions at that moment, he just settled for answering the question.

"I did. I was just about to catalogue them when I heard you. I thought you might have injured yourself."

He looked her up and down, checking for any obvious injuries. Finding none, he found he had no reason to stay. He began to turn to walk back across the kitchen. He was a little disconcerted that the usually very rational Hermione Granger was showing so much uncharacteristic anger.

As soon as he moved she spoke.

"I'm fine," was all the reply he got. She was still using that tone though. From what he knew of pregnant women, they were supposed to have unusual hormonal reactions to everyday things. Surely it can't have started already? He almost hoped so, as it would allow him to easily catalogue and dismiss her current behaviour. He felt it was probably in his best interest to be as far away from her as possible this evening.

He nodded and swiftly moved away from the small door, but not in time to miss the tiny miserable sigh. He could honestly say he didn't understand any of that recent interaction at all. He kept to his lab for the rest of the evening until he heard her ascending the stairs and quietly close her door.

This was going to be a long nine months.

* * *

Hermione hadn't seen much of Severus for the rest of the weekend. He kept himself sequestered in his lab, only venturing out for food midday. She had kept herself busy reorganising her pantry-room until she could see the floor and the piles around the room had purpose. She hadn't gone to seek out her housemate, sensing that he was intentionally keeping out of her way. She realised she may have made him feel slightly uneasy on the first evening she was here, and until she calmed herself down, it probably wasn't wise to rattle him more.

Monday morning came around swiftly, and Hermione lingered in the kitchen, drinking a soothing cup of decaffeinated tea. She wrinkled her nose slightly as she drank. Although it tasted the same as her regular cup, just knowing it didn't included her regular dose of caffeine made it feel just that little bit less fortifying, and she needed every ounce of strength this morning.

She was looking forward to getting back to work and giving her mind something else to concentrate on. She felt like she had to walk on eggshells around the lovely little cottage and didn't appreciate the sensation at all. She had come to realize that she had had unrealistic expectations of the Potions master, in regards to the companionship she yearned for, but at the least, she had expected to feel more welcome in his house.

Over the weekend she had realistically looked at what she had expected to achieve from this endeavour and had found that only one goal, and one goal alone, mattered. She was to give birth to Severus' child, and that was it, full stop, subject closed. She would live with him in this house, accept his help when it was needed and walk away at the end. Once she'd got these facts straight, she'd felt a lot more in control, a lot more herself.

A rustle of cloth was all the indication she had that Severus had entered the room. He moved towards the teapot that was resting on the counter before turning to ask, "May I?"

She nodded and quietly watched him pour a large mugful of the brew.

"You are heading to work today?" he asked.

She nodded once again, stating inanely, "It's Monday."

"And what time shall you return?" he inquired.

"Shortly after six, I believe. I intend to inform my boss of the pregnancy today. There isn't really any reason not to."

She paused, unsure whether to tell him the rest of her plans for the day. After her work finished at five, and she had spoken to her boss, she planned to head to Grimmauld Place to see the boys. They had been on assignment since the last meeting, returning this morning, and didn't even know she had moved out. She needed to tell them today, although how _much_ she told them was still undecided.

She looked up to see him looking slightly agitated and instantly went on guard. Had he read her thoughts?

Severus turned back to the counter and retrieved his mug. He began to walk to the door, but stopped just in front of her chair. He gave her that familiar look, meant to intimidate, and quietly stated in that velvet voice, "Just be sure to remember the contract, the _entire_ contract."

He abruptly straightened and marched out through the door, leaving her slightly rattled in her chair. She still wasn't sure whether he knew she was going to Grimmauld Place or not, not that she was going to let it affect her plans anyway. It took her a moment to gather herself before she made her way to the Floo and the warm familiarity of her office.

* * *

She'd spent much of the day preparing for the overload of paperwork that she would be receiving later in the week. Every time that Harry led a "Search and Capture" assignment, Hermione's workload tripled. She was unofficially responsible for correlating all of their reports and officially responsible for sending all necessary information to the various Ministries of Magic of the world. The assignment they had just taken had utilised the largest search team yet, which meant all the more reports.

She tidied up her desk just before five o'clock and went to knock on the door of her Head of Department. She waited for the bellow to come from the other side of the door before entering. It wasn't that her boss intended to be intimidating; he was just large and very loud. He had an incredibly abrupt manner, but managed to co-ordinate the entire department so flawlessly that he was respected by all.

"Move it, Granger. It's almost time to leave, and the wife will send the green curse at me if I'm late for dinner."

Hermione hurried across the floor of the large room, coming to a halt in front of the giant walnut desk.

"Sir, I have something I need to tell you about, to let you know, just in case… so that if you need to do something… but I hope it won't be a problem…," she stuttered at him, not really knowing where to start. She had spent all her time worrying about what to say to Harry and Ron that she hadn't put much thought into how she would approach her boss.

"Spit it out, woman," his deep tones interrupted her rambling.

She took a deep breath and met the giant man's impatient stare.

"I'm pregnant. And I wanted to let you know that I wanted to keep working here for as long as I can. And even when I'm almost due, I could work from home. Will that be okay?" She raised both her eyebrows and waited for the sure-to-be explosive response.

What she didn't expect was him to burst out from behind his desk and catch her in an exuberant hug. His overexcited voice bellowed in her ear, causing her ears to ring.

"Congratulations, young-un! That's wonderful news. You're gonna be a mum. That's wonderful, just wonderful. Tough job, but I think you'll do great! Kids are a joy, most of the time anyway, when they're not crying or yelling, but don't you worry about that yet. Who's the dad then?"

Ah. This was it; the question that everyone was going to be sure to ask, the question that she wasn't allowed to answer entirely truthfully. She'd been thinking about how she was going to approach this. Was it best to flat-out lie or to tell as near to the truth as possible? She couldn't let anyone know that she was the biological mother of Snape's child, but she had realised that she could still keep to the contract by just withholding the information that Severus was the father of the baby she was carrying. No-one had to know that her child and Snape's child was one and the same baby.

She had chosen to avoid the word 'surrogate' to explain her unexpected pregnancy. Surrogacy wasn't readily understood in the wizarding world and therefore not readily accepted. There were so many magical means to increase the ability to give birth, that surrogacy was very rare. With so many contractual restrictions on what she could say already, Hermione didn't welcome the idea of inviting even more unwanted questions. She would just settle for keeping hers and Snape's babies 'separate'.

"It's something the father and I are keeping to ourselves, Roger. We're both very excited about this, but we want to hold on to that bit." She tried to give him a sweet smile, hoping to allay any misgivings he may have about being kept in the dark. Roger Blockstocker was not a man that liked to be amiss of any details.

She watched him fight with his natural compulsion to force it out of her, but luckily seemed to respect her enough to not compel her to do so.

"That's alright, Hermione. Just be taking a care of yourself. See you tomorrow morning."

He guided her out of his office and all the way to the main entrance. He left her at the Floo with a worried look on his face. It may have had something to do with the fact that her face had lost a lot of its colour and she had a rather queasy look on her face. She was off to face her harshest critics. She had made the biggest decision of her life without their input or approval, and the idea of telling them was making her stomach roll.

She Flooed directly into the kitchen; it was the most likely place to find two young men after a rigorous assignment. Predictably, they were sitting at the long table with large plates of food piled up in front of them. She was greeted to a chorus of "_Ermieee_" through their overstuffed mouths. She had to smile; it was just too warming a picture not to.

She was treated to her usual 'welcome home' hugs, and as the men sat back down to their brimming plates, she dove right in to why she was there.

"I want to speak to you both about something very important," she started. They nodded and looked at her inquisitively, but continued to eat.

"I have temporarily moved out, but I'll be moving back in about nine months."

They stared at her in shock, Ron's mouth open with half-eaten food still inside. Their plates lay forgotten, and they just continued to gape at her.

"Why?" came the query. Harry had begun to move around the table towards her, an upset look on his face. "Is it us?" he asked. Her heart softened. It was so like Harry to think _he_ was the problem in any situation.

"No, no," she reassured, "it's nothing to do with you guys." She took a deep breath and promptly lost all her courage. She looked into their faces and just knew that that was all the change that they'd be able to cope with today. She settled for half a truth, figuring she'd tell them the rest at a later date.

"I'm helping someone with a… project, and it's easier for me to be there for a while. I assure you though, I'll be back."

"Do you want us to help?" was the earnest question from Ron. He really did have a wonderful heart, underneath his boyishness nature.

She smiled wistfully at this. _If only they could_. But she shook her head gently.

"There's nothing to be done really, it's all simple enough. I'd better be heading back. I'll be round to see you soon." She attempted a playful smile. "You know I couldn't leave you to your own devices for long, you wouldn't cope!" She grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the pot on the mantle and was about to throw it in when Harry called across the room.

"Hold on a minute. You haven't told us where you're staying."

She gritted her teeth and turned to face them both. Harry might have a great respect for Severus Snape, but old habits died hard, and she suspected he wasn't going to take this very well.

"I'm staying with Severus. At Thorny Cottage."

Predictably, Harry's lips thinned, but with credit to his increased maturity, he simply nodded his head and told her to watch her head on the chimney.

* * *

When she stepped out of the fireplace, Severus was waiting in the front room. He was lounging on the easy chair positioned directly in front of the hearth, but rose to his feet as she entered the house.

"I trust everything went well." His eyebrow was cocked in enquiry, and his hands were clasped tightly behind his back.

"My boss took the news wonderfully. He's delighted that I'm pregnant and seemed to have no qualms about me continuing to work." She gave a tight smile and hoisted her bag further onto her shoulder, making to walk out of the room, but he stopped her by taking a small step towards the door with her.

"And Potter?"

Her eyes snapped up to his, and she clamped down on her errant tongue before she said something she would later regret. He _had_ peeked into her mind that morning. She felt her blood begin to boil at such an invasion of privacy.

"He knows where I am staying and is absolutely fine with it, thank you _very_ much. I didn't tell him about the baby yet." She glared up at his black eyes, aware that he could be reading her mind even now. 'Well, let him,' she thought. It would only be a string of expletives aimed directly at him.

"Is that all?" she added sarcastically.

Before the smirk could fully form on his face, she turned and walked up to her room, closing the door slightly more forcefully than she needed to.

* * *

The rest of the week passed far less eventfully. The Healer arrived on the Saturday for the follow up interview and declared the entire procedure an unmitigated success. Hermione's next appointment was scheduled for two months' time, and the Healer left again without much ado.

Hermione and Severus sat silently in the front room for a long time, both lost in their own thoughts. Hermione's gaze was directed at her own navel, and when she roused herself from her seat, she found Severus' was as well. She froze in the act of getting up and waited for him to come out of his contemplative daze.

"I'm going to have a bath," she informed him.

She eased herself out of the plush armchair and made her way across the ancient wooden floorboards. As she slowly made her way to the hallway and up the stairs, she could feelhis gaze on her back every step of the way.

As she began to run the bath, there was a knock on the bathroom door. She opened the door to find Severus standing on the landing, holding a small purple bottle.

"I made this for you. It should help you relax," he stated as he offered her the bottle.

She reached for the potion, stunned by the unexpected gesture. He'd evidently thought of her comfort at least _once_ in the past month. He scanned her body, right down to her bare feet, before returning to her bewildered face. He frowned to himself, although was seemingly satisfied with whatever it was he had been looking for, and swiftly left her to enjoy her bath.

As she sank into the fragrant bubbles, with notes of her favourite flowers catching her nostrils, she had a feeling that whether he was infuriating her beyond belief, or making a thoughtful gesture, such as this, Severus Snape was definitely going to keep her off balance. She shook her head in exasperation, although a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not, the thought was wholly appealing.


	3. Month Two

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.

My thanks go to **SouthernWitch_69** for another wonderful beta job.

* * *

MONTH TWO

"Hermione, are you _sure_ you're alright? Do you want me to come over with some soup? It always makes _me_ feel better."

Ron's freckled face was stuck squarely in the grate of Thorny Cottage. Today she was supposed to have visited them after work, but she'd felt too sick to go.

"Ron, I've never know a time when food _didn't_ make you feel better. But I can't keep anything down. I'll be fine. I promise I'll come round soon."

She was hoping to get Ron out of the grate before Severus came out of his lab. Not that there was any serious animosity between them, they just had the ability to rub each other up the wrong way. Hermione didn't think she could deal with that on top of her protesting stomach. Luckily, Ron's head started to withdraw.

"Alright then. I'll let Harry know you're okay. We'll see you soon." The top of his red head disappeared into the emerald flames, and although relieved, she was a little sad to see him go.

In the past week, her morning sickness had gotten into full swing. She felt sick morning, noon and evening. The only time she seemed to be comfortably able to eat was after midnight, which left her feeling tired as well as hungry.

So, come 2am, Hermione could be found sitting at the kitchen table tucking into a large ham sandwich. She felt Severus' presence at the doorway although he never announced that he was there. Although he had retained the art of moving silently, over the past month she had come to be able to sense where he was in the house. Right now she could feel him advancing to her left shoulder to peer at her plateful of food.

His voice gently rolled next to her ear. "This is the third night you've eaten at this time. Am I correct in assuming that you have morning sickness?"

She watched him walk around the table to sit opposite her. Though she was sure he had been awake at this time every night, he had always remained in his bedroom. This was the first time he had come down to see her during her 'midnight' food raids. He hadn't really intended his question as one that required an answer, but she replied anyway.

"This is the only time I can eat food and keep it down. Apparently, it'll only last another couple of months, and then I'll be eating twice as much." She raised the sandwich to her mouth and took a huge bite, flashing a wry grin up at Severus as she did so.

Since she had moved in, they had created a tentative living pattern. They didn't ever interact too much, and both stoutly maintained to themselves, and to each other, that this was what they both wanted, that they both still 'needed' the space that they were accustomed to. However, Severus made sure to inquire after her health every day, although usually she would just answer with a cheery "fine"; she didn't think he needed to know the intimate details of her bodily functions just yet.

They had, unexpectedly, found a small amount of comfort from co-habiting. Sometimes, whilst they would be using the kitchen at the same time, she would share a funny incident from her day, and he would respond with one of his typical dry remarks, usually scathingly criticising the 'incompetent Ministry buffoons' she worked with. Occasionally, he would share some details of the potions he was working on and would quietly listen as she enthusiastically expanded on the topic.

These small exchanges seemed to momentarily appease Hermione's thirst for connection. Any intelligent conversation, regardless of subject, was immensely stimulating to her. It wasn't until he'd leave the room that she'd realise that they had still only spoken for a maximum of five minutes. She'd gradually begun to recognise that Severus was never really going to fill that void in her life that she was so desperately seeking to fill, yet she still looked forward to the next discussion, hoping it would last just a little longer than the one before.

So, with Severus seated opposite her as she devoured her sandwich, she groped around for any topic that would keep him there longer, but he was already talking.

"Your pregnancy does seem to be running by the books, so far. That's what I'd hoped."

Hermione blinked, her sandwich halting on its ascent to her mouth. She didn't really know what to say. She always felt a little flushed when she knew Severus had been pondering on her and the baby, for whatever the reason. He was looking at her again now, in that way which made her think he was taking in every minute detail of her being and storing the information, as though she was one of his experiments.

"You might want to think about telling your friends the news before it becomes too obvious to conceal." He focused directly on her stomach again, and her eyes self-consciously followed his, although she knew she wasn't showing yet. "It won't be long now," she heard him mumble absently. Hermione whipped her head up in time to spot a glimmer of what looked like satisfaction in his eyes, but it was gone again by the time he lifted his head.

While Severus was always curious about the progression of the pregnancy, tonight he was more fixated than normal. It was the way he wouldn't cease looking her over, as though he was expecting some drastic change to occur right before his eyes.

"I'm going to tell Harry and Ron soon, I've decided," she tentatively ventured to the dark-haired man sitting opposite her.

She watched one eyebrow effortlessly ease its way up her companion's forehead. He obviously had read the slight hesitation in that declaration, and the look he was giving her clearly said, 'I'll believe _that_ when I see it'.

"I will," she persevered. "I'm just waiting for things to quieten down a bit, they're both so busy, and I wouldn't want to tell them at the wrong time because that wouldn't help anything…"

She petered off as the eyebrow stayed resolutely in place, idly mocking her insistence. She turned back to her sandwich, knowing she needed to finish it off before she went back to bed. She expected Severus to return back to his room, now that he had satisfied his curiosity, but he remained, watching her eat her way through the rest of her sandwich.

They didn't speak again whilst she ate. She looked firmly at her plate, only occasionally raising her eyes to find him still staring at her in that disconcerting way. As she was finishing the last bite, he rose from the table. Hermione felt slight relief until she saw that he had only risen to bring the kettle to boil.

She felt that juvenile urge to roll her eyes again. Of _course_ Severus Snape would know that she drank herbal tea every night. With all his constant observations of her, she would be surprised if there was anything he _didn't_ know. She watched him pull exactly the right box from the cupboard and begin to prepare the cup for her. Seconds later the brew was pushed across the table towards her.

She lifted the cup to her nose, taking a moment to savour the comforting fragrance. It was too hot to drink, and she would take it with her to her room, as she had done every night. But she found herself reluctant to leave the kitchen. Inquisitive staring aside, it was these small moments that she savoured. She told herself that she would wait just another minute or two and enjoy another fleeting moment of companionship. She remembered a topic she had been meaning to bring up with him; now seemed as good a time as any.

"Now that the weather is getting warmer, I wondered whether you would accept some help in the garden. I _was_ rather good at Herbology at school." She twigged a little too late that reminding him of the 'know-it-all' he had mocked at Hogwarts probably wasn't the best way to get his approval on the matter. "And," she added swiftly, "I would enjoy it a lot." She smiled hopefully at him, trying to appear as if the answer wasn't of too much importance to her.

His mouth opened to speak, but he seemed to bite down on whatever he was going to say. He looked intently over her expression, the crease between his eyebrows deepening as he evaluated his decision.

"You may assist me," he began, "_but_," he added swiftly, "there are a couple of the plants that I would rather you did not come into contact with, for the baby's safety of course."

She hadn't thought about whether any of the plants would be dangerous during pregnancy. She nodded rapidly and gave him a satisfied smile.

Her next words were swallowed up in a jaw-splitting yawn. She had forgotten how late it was. If she had any chance of getting to work in the morning, she needed to go and get some sleep.

Snape had taken her yawn as his cue to rise from the table and begin to make his exit to the door. She moved to follow him, amazed that he looked as alert and awake as any other time of the day. She was definitely waning now, her feet dragging along the floor, the cup of tea tilting ever-so slightly.

As she reached the door to her bedroom, her hand lingered on the doorknob. She watched Severus reach his room at the end of the small landing. As he opened his door, he glanced her way. She flustered, embarrassed at being caught. She squeaked a hasty "goodnight" and dove through her door. The last thing she saw as she disappeared past the doorframe was the twitch of Severus' mouth.

Once she was inside the safety of her room, she mentally berated herself. She had just acted with all the sophistication of a teenage girl. She had no reason to blush for simply looking his way. She was carrying his child for goodness sake. She knew he had spotted her embarrassment too. The twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth was, for all intents and purposes, the equivalent of a highly amused grin.

* * *

Severus closed his door with soft click. He paused a moment at the door replaying Hermione's exit from the landing. He hadn't seen her get embarrassed in a long time. It was always entertaining to see her ruffled. Her cheeks had the ability to burn a bright red, the colour extending down her neck the more embarrassed she got.

He had just been turning to wish her a restful night's sleep, and Merlin help her, the girl looked as if she could use one, when she had flushed that crimson shade and positively leapt through her door.

He was familiar with most of her facial expressions now. He spent anytime they were in the same room observing her, watching for any signs of how the pregnancy was progressing. He waited with trepidation for the hormones to affect her disposition, but barring their encounter in her study on her very first day, he had yet to see the unpredictable behaviour that they described in the books. He had begun to suspect that that episode had had nothing to do with hormones, but as the next likely suspect was himself, he hadn't delved much further into it.

Due to his observations, he had begun to notice a wealth of things about Hermione. Such as the meticulous way she cared for her body and the child she carried: his child. The way she listened intently to any information he would divulge about his current experiments. He had even found research notes on her desk in her tiny study, exploring one of the elements of his potions that they had discussed the previous evening.

Or the way she brought home the unfinished work of colleagues he considered unworthy of even working beside her. Every time she told him a story of how one of the incompetent fools in her department had screwed up once again, he felt compelled to voice his distain. It bothered him to see intellect go to waste. It was another thing that had frustrated him about teaching: even the most brilliant teenage minds were often more focused on teenage pursuits and dramas than on their studies. Only a few were an exception to the rule, dedicating themselves to academia. It hadn't made him like the brats much more, but he had at least respected their dedication and thirst for knowledge.

This thought brought him right back to the woman in the next room. Pregnant, beleaguered by more work than she could comfortably manage, and still she wished to learn about the rare plants he grew at the side of the garden. Her eyes had practically begged to be allowed to work with him on the small patch. He had almost said no, worried that she would start overexerting herself, but he had relented, as it was always good to know someone else could oversee his investment, if he ever had the need. But did watching the resulting smile on her face have to feel so… rewarding?

She was smiling more lately, he had noticed. Not that she was beaming away all the time; she just didn't have that constant air of stoically endured boredom, prevalent over the last couple of years, that had seemed to crush all the fight and spirit from her. She seemed close to, dare he think it, happy, which satisfied him more than he had would have thought. The only thing he had predicted being concerned with was the physical wellbeing of the 'carrier' of his child. He didn't think he would be concerned with her mental wellbeing, let alone her _emotional_ wellbeing, and as for the word 'carrier', he just couldn't reconcile the word to his image of Hermione Granger.

The problem was, he couldn't quite figure out what his image of Hermione Granger _was_ any longer. If someone had asked him 10 years ago, he would have immediately said that she was a brownnosing know-it-all, who was riding on the fame of the Boy-Who-Lived. By the end of the war, he at least could appreciate what she had contributed to the final effort. In the years since, she had become more of a wallflower, fading into the background: the stalwart dogs-body of the Order.

She had, until recently, remained a mixture of all the images from over the years. He was now surprised to find a sensible woman where the bushy-haired student had once been. It irked him that this had escaped his notice. He prided himself on his observations. At least a few things had stayed the same. Her hair _was_ still as wild as ever, constantly getting in her way. She was forever brushing it out of her face, and it irritated him no end. And she still showed her eagerness with so much frantic nodding he was surprised her head hadn't fallen off yet.

The only thing he wished was that she would divulge more information about how the pregnancy was affecting her body. He was intensely curious, but she never gave away anything other than she was 'fine'. 'Fine' just didn't cut it in Severus' opinion. With the vast array of descriptive words at her disposal, 'fine' came somewhere just vaguely above 'nice'. Severus wanted details. This was the development of his child; he wanted to compare and analyse, prove that his child was superior in all ways to every other child ever born. And he couldn't do that with '_fine_'.

He'd get details one way or the other. He'd start asking more questions, and either she would tell him or he would just have to pluck those answers right out of her head.

* * *

Hermione's work day was almost at an end. She was watching the clock tick slowly away, more than ready to escape home to the comfort of Thorny Cottage.

A paper aeroplane flew into the room, making two circles above her head before it neatly landed itself in the centre of her desk. Hermione opened it, hoping it wasn't going to be anything that would keep her here too long.

It was from Harry, which was unusual enough; Harry almost never visited his office at the Ministry. He preferred to do any paperwork he had at Grimmauld Place. But the words were clear. It simply read: "I need to talk to you ASAP. I'm in my office now."

If it was something to do with work, he would have sent the relevant paperwork. If it was something inconsequential, he would have Flooed her later from home. No, he meant business, and had purposefully contacted her when she wasn't near Severus or Ron. Now she really _was_ worried.

She left a quick note for Roger, saying that Harry had called her to see him and after that she was heading home for the day. With that she gathered her belongings and began to walk to meet her friend.

Harry was sitting behind his desk, arms folded, looking every inch the hero and leader he had become. Hermione stuck a smile on her face and came to stop behind the empty chair opposite him. She felt like she had been called to the headmaster's study.

"Harry? Is everything okay?"

He took a deep breath and looked her deep in the eye. She knew then she was done for. He was clearly very angry with her about something, and there was only one thing in her life at the moment that would cause him to be _this_ angry; only one thing he didn't already know.

"I guess I should be asking you how _you're_ feeling, Hermione. Still feeling sick?"

She nodded, too afraid to say anymore. She didn't want him to play with her. She needed to get it out in the open. It was double standards, she knew, since she had hidden this for two months. She deserved every piece of anger and hurt he could wish to throw her way.

Harry slowly rose from his chair and came around the table towards her. He stood in front of her, her best friend, as close to a brother as she could ever have.

"Hermione, I didn't understand why you would move to Snape's, but I'm not as stupid as you think. A 'project' for nine months and now you're feeling sick? Tell me I've got it wrong; tell me I _am_ being stupid." His eyes pleaded with her to tell him the truth.

When she still said nothing, he urgently grabbed her hands and shook them, shaking her out of her shock.

"Hermione! Are you pregnant?"

"Yes," she whispered, "I am. I was going to tell you really soon, I honestly was."

His eyes had immediately sought her stomach, obviously looking for evidence of her impending motherhood. When he found none, his eyes returned to hers, weighing up whether to ask the question she knew he had to ask before he would be satisfied; the question she couldn't answer truthfully.

"And the baby," he seemed to pause for a second, his head slightly shaking in disbelief, before he resumed, "is it Snape's?"

This was why she had wanted to leave telling them a little longer. She tried to mentally steel herself, but as the lie left her lips, it felt like it took a tiny part of her soul with it.

"No," she said. By the contract, she couldn't have said 'yes', but in a sudden need to have her best friend have an inkling of what was going on she added, "I can't talk about it."

Harry was right. He was not stupid. He understood immediately what she was trying to say, and his face dropped. He released her hands and moved away from her to lean back on his desk. Hermione felt awful; he looked so betrayed.

"I guess you can't tell me _why_ either," he said, looking thoroughly defeated.

Hermione just shook her head in reply. Her eyes began to prickle and her vision began to haze.

She felt sicker than all her morning sickness combined at the latest repercussions of her decision. She had never needed to question the strength of their friendship; it was stronger than blood, but maybe she had overstepped the boundaries this time. Keeping something this important from him was not how their friendship worked and she had to pray that he would forgive her.

"I'm sorry," she offered. Tears were brimming on the edge of her lashes, threatening to spill over any moment.

Harry looked up and caught her expression. He sighed once and moved to stand in front of her again. He reached forward and enveloped her in a giant hug. Hermione's water reserves broke, and she found herself clinging to his robes whilst tears streamed down her face.

Harry 'shushed' her and gathered her closer. He held her until her gentle sobs began to ease, and then he pulled back to look at her face.

Hermione couldn't explain it. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Harry knew and he still cared. Ron would go crazy for a little while when he was told, but with Harry's support she knew it wouldn't be a problem. She hadn't realised how much stress she had been under by keeping such a huge decision from them. She vowed she would never do it again. After all they had been through, how could she have doubted how they would have handled it?

Harry set about wiping away her tears and straightening her robes.

"Are you happy?" he asked. His tone said everything he wouldn't say in words. He had accepted it and all he cared about now was her.

Hermione thought about this. She wouldn't say she was _un_happy. Life wasn't exactly as she would have it, but she wasn't in a position to complain. She settled for giving him an almost-answer.

"I'm doing the right thing. I'm more… fulfilled." She gave him a watery smile. "I'm better now that you know. That's what has worried me the most."

He smiled right back at her and looped his arm around her shoulders as he guided her towards the door.

"Well," he started, "we haven't told Ron yet."

* * *

Severus was pacing the floor inside the living room. Hermione was usually back by now. Even on the days when she had visited the Dastardly Duo, she had still returned before this hour. He glanced back to the fireplace, as he had done every few minutes for the past hour, but there was no change in the gently crackling flames.

He knew she was an adult and perfectly capable of looking after herself, but what if she had gotten too sick to travel? Or what if she had been kidnapped by one of the remaining Death Eaters? Or what if she was out with someone from work? If she was in the care of one of those buffoons, then _anything_ could happen to her and the baby.

Severus fidgeted, torn between the urge to go and find her and the urge to wait for her here, where she would have a piece of his mind when she returned.

As he paced towards the window again, the flames burst into life behind his back. He spun around to greet Hermione with the tongue-lashing he had been steadily preparing over the past hour. The expression on her face had the first scathing word dying on his lips. He took a moment to survey the damage.

She had been crying, that much was obvious. What he couldn't place was the emotion behind her eyes. It wasn't despair, yet it wasn't joy. She looked like she had just fought a long hard battle, but about what he didn't know. It may have been work-related. He mentally shook his head. Severus had never seen evidence that she was _this_ emotionally attached to her job. That left him with the conclusion that this _had_ to be personal, which once again left a high probability that _he_ had responsibility for her distress.

He took a step towards her, and she started at his sudden movement. It appeared she hadn't seen him upon exiting the grate, and he realised it had entirely escaped his notice that the room had fallen into darkness while he had waited.

He watched her stare at him for a second, resolution and pride clear on her face. She nodded to him once in acknowledgement before turning away and heading for the hallway.

What?! He wanted to shout and demand her return. He needed answers to this and he could wait no longer. She had already disappeared into the kitchen and he swiftly followed, trapping her before she had a chance to disappear up the stairs.

She was carrying her sandwich and blossom-scented tea, which apparently she didn't wish to consume downstairs tonight.

"Miss Granger, I would like some explanation as to your appearance."

He thought it seemed a reasonable request on his part. However, she managed to let out a sigh that let him know that that was the very last thing she wished to do. She gathered her thoughts; pain, relief and despondence played across her face in equal measure, and he was even more intrigued than before.

She didn't look him in the eye as she muttered: "It was a long day, and I told Ron and Harry that I'm pregnant, so I'm just going to go to bed now."

She moved to step past him, but he blocked her way. How could this meeting have caused such contradictory emotions in her? What had happened? He swore he wouldn't use it against her, but he _had_ to know. It would eat him up if he didn't. He felt the magic flow down his arm as the non-verbal spell left his consciousness.

He was bombarded with an assortment of images and scenes, all fighting for dominance in the forefront of her mind. No wonder she looked so frazzled on the outside; her head was a mess. He had to fight through all of the memories to piece together what had happened to her this afternoon.

Weasley's face, blanched white… the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice holding her tight… shouts reverberating across the kitchen at Grimmauld Place… knocks coming from the other side of a bathroom door… the measly contents of her stomach disappearing into the bowl…

Most of the memories were hazy, seen through the tears she still showed the evidence of now. He felt a force pushing against his intrusion, and he suddenly found himself staring back into the red, blotchy face of Hermione.

"I hope you're happy with what you found. Now if you're quite finished, I'd like to go to bed."

She slipped past him, quickly moving beyond his reach, and didn't stop until her door slammed shut.

Severus stood and listened to the floorboards creak as Hermione moved around in the room above him. After a few minutes, the creaking stopped, and the gentle spring of the mattress was the last thing he heard before silence encased the house.

He recognized the emotion at the front of his mind. It was one he hadn't felt in over twenty-five years, when hiding in a dingy hallway he'd heard a prophecy that would drastically change the course of his life. It was protection for a mother in danger, clear and strong, except this time the child in question _was_ his, not the child that _should_ have been his. This time he'd get it right. She would be safe and so would the child.


End file.
